The Marlboro democrat. [volume] (Bennettsville, S.C.) 1882-1908, 1887-02-02

Portcaster, sent me here to have q
power Of attorney drawn out, and l
haven't passed any hotels
"No, should think not,' said Mark
Plinlimmon, with a cherry laugh. "We
don't deal much in hotels along this
road. But you are kindly welcome to
stay here as long as you like, MI"
"AIiddleworth,'' said tho stranger,
"Rufus Middleworlli.
And ho sat down his valise and
looked around at the dark oiled vain.
scoting, tho ceilings traversed by mon
ter beams, the latticed easements, the
old oak settles on each side Of the
blazing logs.
You seem to have fine farm here,
Mr.. Plinlimmon." said ho, "and finely
kept"
It's not bad. " said Mark, carelessly
And everything in real old English
style"
Yes" said Mark, ''it belonged to
an old Lincolnshire family who took a
fancy to settle out here. They got to
dabbling in railroad shares. and failed.
Tho daughters went back to their
friends in England, such as they had.
The father blew his brains out in Now
York. The estate was sold a fore
closure. I bought it. There's the his.
tory Of Purple Peak farm.
Madeline Vassar's father sat down
OH the old oakcn settle, and looked Keen
ly at the tall young farmer. How glad
he would have been If only lie could
see into his heartl For no father will
ingly gives the apple Of his eye to a
stranger.
Ellis face and mien are good," he
told himself. II wonder IL his nature
matches It.. wonder how 1 can find
out.'
One by one the different members Of
the family dropped in as ho sat talking
with Mark Plinllmmon. Old Mrs,
PlinlimmOn was first-a mild, white
haired matron. with soft, wstful.cyes;
then a rosy. checked brace Of nephews.
'Their father and mother are dead"
observed Mark, $50 adopted them, and
1nc fellows they are"
"Not bad SYMPTOM" said Middle
worth Vassar to himself. But or
course most people are good to their
own kith and KIM
And then entered most majestic
old man, with long, white hair hang
ing over his shoulders, leaning on a
cane.
"And this" said Mark, is our'Uncle
Joe," fastening as he spoke to set an
easy chair for the ancient patriarch.
"Uncle Joe, this is Mr.. Middleworth,
who has come from Portcaster. l have
invited him to stay ali nlght-if you do
not object"
Uncle Joe waved his hand like an
old prince.
''iIe is welcome,' lie sad; ''ycry
welcome. Mark. In fact any friend Of
yours is welcome to Purple Peak
farm.''
And then he began to warm himself
at the blaze and fell into q sort of a
reverie.
Uncle Joe, whoever he might be, was
evidently the person Of most considera-
tion in tho little household. He sat at the
head Of the little table, and said grace
before meat; and had the warmest
corner, the easiest chair, the most ten
der consideration; and finally, when he
trudged upstairs to bed, Mark dutiful-
Iy held the door open for him to pass
through, and Mr.. D1iddleworth asked
with some interest:
"Who ID that old gentleman? He
has very fine face. Of course I know
that he is your uncle
"No," said Mark plinlimmon, smil-
ing; ''he Is not my uncle at all. lie IS
no rotation in the world to me.'
Then who does he belong to?"
"IIe belongs to nobody. He is a sort
OF cousin to Mr.. Pendexter, the
Englishman who built tho house. He
went with the young women to Lin
colnshlre, but lie was not welcome
there. lie was old. you sec, and pen-
niless, and past work. So he came
back here. and they put him in the
work-house. But think the shock and
all touched his mind; and one day we
found him here On the steps. 4 have
como home, he said. The work-house
authorities sent for him, but wouldn't
let him 90 back. He Is very old, you
sec. and very feeble; and perhaps they
be quito so considerate OF him
10 they ought. So here lie remains,
that he is the master OF Pur-